Don't apologize I understand
by feathered moon wings
Summary: Matt is a mess of wounds. He's confused and his senses are shit. Someone's there. "Foggy?" Matt get's a bit screwed and Foggy patches him up. Mostly, Foggy is just too damn tired of his best-friends double life. "Don't apologize, it's not like you'll stop."


**Don't apologize. I understand.**

Matt groaned in pain. His senses where shit; there was a slight ringing in his ears, his head felt full of cotton and for a brief moment he felt life falling off the earth. He had no clue where he was or what had happened. As he woke up a bit more, he tensed; there was someone else in the room, too close to him to be comfortable (close enough to be a danger). He had to act fast, if he-

"Matt, if you punch me again or reopen my work, I'm going to fill your ass up with meds," said a tired voice.

"Foggy?" There was a pinch in his abdomen that made him flinched a bit. The warm hand of his friend appeared on his chest and pressed him down gently in comfort. When Matt settled again, Foggy continued stitching the large gash.

"Yeah. I'm guessing you wouldn't remember, because we've had this conversation three times already, but you called me. Said you needed a bit of help." The blond scoffed at that.

"Claire..?"

"I called her, she's out of town." The voice of his friend was scratching on the monotonous, but it was mostly tired. The Devil finally got his senses in order and felt the floor of his house and heard the constant buzz of the billboard outside. Foggy's heart was calm, but fluttered every two or three sets of beats.

"You're… you're stitching me." Matt said dumbly. "You can stitch?"

"I can now. I took a few intensive courses after our first little incident." Foggy's voice was bitter "I… wanted to be ready in case stuff like this happened."

Matthew was silent; he kept still as he felt he cold metal going into his skin and out, the urge to move away turning bothersome at the intrusion. He reached up to a closed up wound in his chest and felt the tread there with the tips of his fingers; the bumps rolled under his fingers as he examined it.

"You're good at it. They're very neat." Matt was impressed.

"I'm thorough when I want. The state of my apartment has nothing to do with how I work, before you bring it up." Foggy knotted the treads as he finished gash he had been working on. He sighed, "I'm almost finished. There's one more on your thigh."

Matt kept quiet and let his friend work in peace as he moved to the left side of his body. He could feel Foggy was scared, but calm; his hands steady with the exception of an almost imperceptible tremor in the tip of his fingers. His heart fluttered again as he punctured the Devil's skin with the needle once more.

"Done." The blond said after a few minutes and added a sarcastic: "Feel free to check I did a decent job if you like. You wouldn't want an infection or something."

Throwing the rest of the gauzes into the first aid kit, Foggy began to clean up.

"Foggy…" The blond stopped as Matt placed a hand on his forearm, the medical kit left to the side, forgotten. The dark haired man tried to say how sorry he was through his face; he knew words wouldn't cut it, but he had never know if this was the right way to convey his feelings. He couldn't see when other people did it, he couldn't remember who a sorry face looked like; if he thought about it, it was possible he had never truly seen one. So how could he ever know if what he did with his face was right? He just knew words wouldn't do, so he tried.

Matt heard Foggy sigh and felt him take his arm away form his grip. For a moment Matt feared this was it, Foggy would leave him and it was not like he could blame him, but he didn't want to be alone, he needed his friend, he-

His thoughts stopped as Foggy's hand patted him gently on the chest, careful not to touch his injury there. With his other hand, the one he had used to take Matt's fingers off, he re-arranged his grip and held the Devil's own calwos one.

"It's okay, Matty," he said softly. "It's going to be alright."

"I'm sorry, Fo-"

"No, don't apologize. It's not like you're going to stop, so… Just don't apologize. I understand." His voice was sad and tired still, but Matt sighed in relief at the caring wave he could feel radiating from his long-time friend.

"Okay... okay. Thank you, Foggy." And he really meant it; Matt hoped Foggy knew how much.

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, let's get you to your bed." The blond helped the other stand up with a grunt and slowly they both made their way to Matt's bedroom to put the vigilante to sleep.

* * *

 **Abril: I blame Foggy's unhappiness all on Matt. Don't take me wrong, I love the guy in the mask, but** _ **Jesus**_ **, give your friend a fucking rest or at least try not to make him go away with so much heartbreak and an extra kick in the balls.**

 **I head canon this strongly. Foggy became a first aid pro (perhaps a bit more than just first aid I suppose). Matty, my boy I hope you realize what a magnificent friend you have (had hehe).**

 **And thanks to my good beta, Mondhase for you know, beta'ing hehe :D**


End file.
